In the Havens
by Gildaurel
Summary: Set immediately after Vanyel dies. He meets an unexpected guest in the Havens...
1. Chapter 1

_Blinding white… then nothing. A void where warmth should have been. Slowly, the whiteness darkened, shapes grew shadowy and tall; one distinct form distinguished itself from all the blurred edges. _

_ "We meet once again, Herald Vanyel." It was the Shadow Lover, unchanged, beautiful and ageless eyes as full of sympathy and sorrow as ever. _

_ "But this time there won't be a choice," He found himself replying, regret and slight bitterness in his tone. _Stefen…

_ "There is always a choice, Herald." _

It all came rushing back, then, in a mess of images. Vanyel blinked, twice, then gathered his surroundings. _Huh. He spoke true. I _am _in the Forest of Sorrows._ He threw out a quick Mindcall. _:Yfandes?:_

_ :Here, Van.: _A horse-shape form began to glow between two trees not far from him, then solidified into an achingly familiar shape. Whickering, she trotted over to where he lay prone and nudged him.

_:Are you going to lay there like a dead man all day?:_

He looked down to where the grass poked through his hand. _:I wouldn't exactly call us alive, would you?:_ Nevertheless, he picked himself up from the ground, trying to ignore the strange feeling of weightlessness. _:Thank the gods you're here, love.:_

Her Mindvoice softened. _:I'll never leave you, Van. You know that.:_

Smiling, he touched her ghostly form, expecting his hand to pass straight through. It didn't, though; something like an electric spark raced through him at the contact between energies. She started, surprised, and looked at him. _:I didn't think we'd be able to feel anything.:_

_ :Huh.: _He replied, his thoughts taking a slightly darker turn. _We just can't feel anything living…_

Yfandes caught the tail end of his thought and sent him a wave of sympathy. _:Stefen will be fine, Chosen. Give him a chance to live, and prove his worth. He's very resilient, I'm sure he'll pick himself up from this loss, awful as it may be.:_

Vanyel made a noncommittal noise. He wasn't so sure that even Stefen, resilient as he may be, would be able to stand the pain of a broken lifebond. He knew that feeling all too well. Sighing, he shut his eyes and relaxed his hold on the energies around him. Immediately, he felt his form begin to split into a thousand tiny bits of light, spreading into the forest around him, his consciousness slipping away from the mortal realm.

The Shadow Lover's words came back to him: _You will be mostly formless in the realm of the living; only an extreme focus of your magic and energies will bring you into a visible shape. Otherwise, your energies will disperse and your consciousness will return to the twilight realm of the Havens._

He was there, now, and Yfandes too; he felt her shape beside him as the formless blankness began to shift into a small, green village. A cottage came into view, a lovely stone cottage with a rose garden in front, the type of house he'd always dreamed of having. Chuckling, he felt the last bit of melancholy recede and, with Yfandes whickering happily beside him, he fairly ran to the house. _I dreamed this place! _He thought, almost wildly, opening the door to find the same simple wood furnishings he'd imagined during those times at Haven when exhaustion and stress weighed so heavily upon his soul. _This is the rest 'Fandes and I have earned._

When he lay down upon the large, upholstered bed, he felt that he had finally come home.


	2. Chapter 2

Time was a strange thing in this place, it seemed to work as Vanyel imagined it to—if he forgot that it should be night, night never came. But, if he had to judge, he would say it had been two weeks since he'd come. He'd set the wards on the Forest to call him if there was a disturbance—for the moment, though, the borders seemed entirely free of incident, probably because all of Leareth's army was entirely wiped out. Vanyel was only too happy to enjoy the lovely solitude of the Havens—he had, on occasion, met a lost friend who happened across his cottage, and welcomed the unexpected meetings. Savil he hadn't seen; the Shadow Lover had come to him in a dream and told him she made a different choice. He chuckled. _Savil, the most irascible Companion any Herald could ever have!_

This morning, he stood on his front porch and held a steaming cup of tea between his hands, reveling in the feeling of the morning sun on his face. Closing his eyes, he felt the sheer peacefulness of this place. _There's only one thing—well, person, really—missing… _he thought, a bit regretfully.

Then—he felt it, the touch of another presence near his cottage. It had always happened this way, he thought of a friend at the same time the friend thought of him, and the meeting happened: otherwise, in this vast realm of dreams, no two souls could ever hope to find each other.

He opened his eyes, hoping, but not daring to truly hope. Hesitating, he waited a moment before turning toward the end of the road. A glint of sun on golden hair—a tall, well-made form—those laughing brown eyes—with a loud crash, his mug broke against the stone porch.

Not daring to speak the name, he waited until the other man was almost to him before beginning to walk, slowly, too slowly, his legs failing him, toward the man.

Then—that golden form stopped, brown eyes widened in shock, took in the Whites—_Gods, _Vanyel thought madly, _I even wear them in the Havens—_the silvered hair, the faintly lined face, and spoke incredulously, _"Van?"_

That was enough for Vanyel, he placed one trembling hand on Tylendel's cheek and whispered, "'Lendel?"

And Tylendel pulled him into a desperate hug, clutching Vanyel to his chest—_I'm twenty-five years older than him, but he dwarfs me as much as ever, _Vanyel thought ruefully. Vanyel hesitated a moment before wrapping both arms around Tylendel in return, feeling the rush of energy as their spirit forms touched.

After a moment, Vanyel pulled away first, looking at Tylendel with amazement in his eyes. "Why—how-?"

"I've been here ages, Van, you know that." Then his eyes grew distant. "Although part of me is missing—I know I made a choice when I died, and I'm only here in the Havens part of the time. It's all blurry; I don't know what choice or bargain it was, but I lost part of myself. It only comes back to me in the morning; when I sleep, I never dream, or if I do, it feels like someone else's dreams." He paused in his rambling and looked Vanyel over from head to toe. "But-Van—if you're here, that means you've died—you're far too young—" his voice broke.

Vanyel smiled reassuringly. "Oh, 'Lendel, I sought the Shadow Lover's embrace for years. I must have lived three lifetimes in the forty odd years I was alive. When His kiss came, I accepted it readily, knowing I gave my life for Valdemar."

Tylendel looked no less confused. "For Valdemar? Van—you're going to have to explain this to me. And you're in Whites! What happened after I… well, after I jumped?"

_Lightning and rain, madness and grief. _Vanyel felt the power of the old memory still and shuddered. "Let's go inside, 'Lendel. We have too much to talk about."

He offered his hand and Tylendel took it with a small smile.

"Cup of tea?" Vanyel offered, pulling two mugs out of the cupboard. _Good thing this cupboard restocks itself. I thought I'd just broken the last one…_

"Sure," Tylendel replied. "Can I help you?"

Vanyel chuckled. "I'm pretty sure making tea is a one-person job, 'Lendel." _Gods, this is strange… he looks so young, unchanged, and I would have thought he _knew_ he was Stef. How do I explain this—well, everything? From that dream I assumed he was watching me… but then, I can't watch Stef from here, can I? Only that goddamn Forest…_

"You haven't gotten so old as to begin woolgathering, have you, Van?" Tylendel remarked teasingly. "Or just analyzing everything as carefully as ever?"

Vanyel turned and handed him a cup of tea with a smile. "All of the above?"

Laughing, Tylendel took a sip of tea. "Some things never change." He paused, then, and an uncomfortable silence hung over them. "Vanyel…" he began.

Vanyel held up a hand to forestall him. "I should go first, 'Lendel. I know how confused you must be, what a formless thing time is here and how quickly the real world becomes a mass of blurred memories. I haven't been here that long and I already feel it. I still remember, though—the important points of my life, at least."

"I want to hear everything," Tylendel said softly. "Starting from the moment I—jumped." His voice broke on that last word.

"Power was ripping through me," Vanyel said, just as softly. "The backlash, they told me later. Everything burned, and everything was blank—that whole warm space inside me that had been _you._ I ran, and ran, as far away as I could go, until I threw myself into the river, hoping to die. But Yfandes found me, and Chose me, pulling me from the water." Tylendel's eyes widened at that.

"But you only had potential—" he started.

"The backlash had ripped open all my channels to their fullest." Vanyel paused and extended a tentative Mindtouch to Tylendel. The touch of their minds was warm, familiar, and filled with something else, something heart wrenching, that Vanyel chose to ignore for the moment. Tylendel opened his own mind and Vanyel Showed him the power. With an undignified exclamation, Tylendel broke contact. "You're as strong as any _five_ Herald-Mages, Van! You have every single Gift!"

A resigned look in his eyes, Vanyel nodded. "I was that strong in life, yes. The strongest Herald-Mage Valdemar had ever seen, perhaps. Most thought so. But I hated myself—I thought I'd helped you die. I tried to slit my wrists and Savil just about lost it. She didn't know what to do anymore, took me to the _Tayledras _to be Healed." A small smile of remembrance played across his lips. "They did that, and more—they trained me to be a Herald. To care. To stop being that selfish little brat I was before I met you."

The corners of Tylendel's mouth quirked up. "I know of a few instances where you weren't _entirely_ selfish…"

_Memory: mouth on skin, Tylendel golden in the throes of pleasure- _Vanyel shut down the memory and raised his eyebrows at Tylendel. "At any rate, they fixed me up. I became the first Herald-Mage in the circle—I was in Karse for years, running the border circuit. It may sound pompous, but I essentially ran the Kingdom for years." He stopped and smiled at Tylendel's widened eyes. "Shocking, I know. Duty was everything for me, though, 'Lendel, you must know that. There was nothing else…"

He trailed off, a familiar pair of hazel eyes staring mischievously up at him in his mind. _"Another round?" Stefen asked, holding up a courser. Vanyel sipped his wine and smiled back. "Of course."_

Tylendel took up the thread of conversation. "Good gods, Van, I don't know what to say… I had no idea, any of it. I remember being in your dream—seeing how upset you were, how lonely, trying to make you understand that I _wanted_ you to move on, I wanted you to love again—but it's vague, so vague. Mostly, I could never reach you, could never see what happened. I've almost never been conscious here; I sleep most all the time, that blank, soulless sleep. I couldn't have told you how much time went by until I saw you—"

"Aged, have I?" Vanyel said with a rueful laugh.

"Aged well," Tylendel replied, smiling again. "But holy gods, your hair is practically white, _ashke!"_

The sound of that word froze both of them. Somehow Tylendel's hand had found Vanyel's, and was holding it gently across the table. Vanyel extracted his and placed his hands on his lap.

"There is something else, 'Lendel," he said, his face growing distant. Tylendel looked at him, worry creasing his brow. "You… you did make a choice. You chose to be reborn—to be with me. To fulfill the promise of our lifebond. You weren't a Herald, you were a Bardic trainee… Stefen." _A young, tenor voice:_ "_I can't take it anymore, I love you, Van."_

Tylendel's voice was hesitant. "And you met me?"

"Yes. We—fell in love. Again. Lifebonded, again—because Stef _was_ you, but he wasn't. He grew up differently, on the streets; he'd had a hard life, a different environment. And he never knew that he was you, only Savil and the Hawkbrothers knew. I figured it out at the end—just before I had to call Final Strike on a mage to save Valdemar."

Shock was written on Tylendel's face. "That explains everything, the blank spaces, the missing parts of my life, the strangeness where dreams or remembered sleep should be." He paused. "You miss him, don't you."

"I miss him and I worry for him," Vanyel said. "He's alone; he doesn't understand any of this afterlife. He thinks I'm gone forever and—" he looked down, away from Tylendel—"I know how horrible that is."

Tylendel couldn't take it anymore. He stood up from the table and moved behind Vanyel to crouch down beside him. He took Vanyel's face in his hands, "I'm sorry, Van. I'm so sorry for everything I did to you. It sounds like the only thing I did right was to chose to become this Stefen—but I don't even know if I can take full credit for that." He stood and moved behind Vanyel, his hands stroking through the thick hair, still marveling at the silver. "I'm so sorry."

Vanyel relaxed into Tylendel's touch. It wasn't the same in the Havens, touch—it was better, almost, linked to a sort of electricity that signified the meeting between spirits. And Tylendel's hands were moving down his neck, now, massaging gently, working through knots Vanyel seemed to have even in this relative paradise. He sighed and leaned into the touch. Then—the brush of warm lips against his neck roused him out of his daze, and he rose from his chair, backed away from Tylendel.

Looking confused and hurt, Tylendel took a step back as well.

" 'Lendel, I'm sorry—I just, I don't feel right. I'm with Stef; I was just _with_ Stef, physically, before coming here. Knowing you share a spirit doesn't make you him. It feels like a betrayal when he's hurting, still hurting so badly."

Tylendel shook his head, a rueful smile playing on his lips. "Van, I understand. Although—" he hesitated, then said it anyway. "I think you're being as excessively prudish as ever."

Vanyel had to laugh, relaxing once more. "I'm sure Stefen would agree. He's just as, ah, excited for life's pleasures as you ever were."

"I'm finally beginning to be convinced that we actually share a soul," Tylendel chuckled.

After a moment, Vanyel spoke quietly. "Would you stay with me, here, anyways? I've missed you—so much."

Tylendel's warm eyes softened. "Of course, Van. But I can't promise to be present all the time." He tapped his head. "I'm sharing this."

"I understand," Vanyel said. "I'm otherwise engaged as well." And he told Tylendel the story of the Forest, which led to other stories of Vanyel's life as a Herald, until the sun began to set and Tylendel's face began to glaze over.

When the blankness overtook him, it was sudden, and his entire figure grew rigid in his chair. Vanyel watched, fascinated. _That's Stefen in there_, he thought with a pang. Carefully, he picked Tylendel up out of the chair, feeling the hard muscle under his shirt. In the process of moving him to the bed, his shirt slipped off one shoulder, and Vanyel's breath caught at the expanse of golden skin. _Aren't the dead supposed to be past such desires?_ He thought, a bit amusedly, as he settled the rigid form into his bed. He considered undressing him but thought better of the idea. _I'm not sure how much I trust my resistance to _that_ sort of temptation_. Tylendel had always been his idea of physical perfection, and he took a moment to study his sleep-softened features. The soft blonde curls framed a defined, masculine face; his broad shoulders gave way to a trim waist, long legs, and… _better stop there._ Shaking his head, Vanyel blew out the candle in the room and headed downstairs to the cottage couch for some "sleep."

_Normalcy is what you make it here, but I still prefer the routine of the living,_ he thought as he shut his eyes.

_Haven. His old room. A strangely calm, happy-looking Stefen beckoned to him. He glided over. "Van…Tylendel is me. I'm 'Lendel. He's there while you wait for me, for us to become one. Don't waste time…"_

He woke with a start. Light poured in the window and he heard a vague rustling upstairs. _'Lendel. 'Lendel is here with me, _he thought, a surge of joy rushing through him. Somehow his clothes had shifted from Whites to a soft grey tunic he'd always loved, his hair was mussed from sleep, but he didn't care about being presentable. He climbed the stairs two at a time. _That dream was Stefen, telling me what 'Lendel told me so long ago. _He shook his head to himself. _'Lendel's right, I can be such a prudish fool sometimes…_

He stopped at the entry to the bedroom. Tylendel had pulled his shirt off and was sitting up on the bed, stretching, his strong chest and chiseled abs on full display. Vanyel felt his heart race a moment, then slow.

Tylendel looked up at him and smiled that heart-breakingly warm smile. "Well, good morning to you, Van." His eyes roamed over Vanyel's body and Vanyel couldn't help but notice that his breeches looked more than a little confining. Still, he remained on the bed, not making any move toward Vanyel. _He's respecting what I said yesterday._

"I had a strange dream," Vanyel said finally, moving a step closer.

"At least you dream," Tylendel said with a hint of sadness.

"Yes, well, you were in it. Well, you as Stef," he amended. Tylendel looked away.

"You think of him all the time, don't you?"

"Well, yes, but in the dream you—him—were telling me again what a prudish idiot I am."

A hint of hope in his eyes, Tylendel looked up and met his gaze. "Good for me."

Vanyel moved a few steps closer then finally sat next to Tylendel on the bed. "I think you're both right," he said softly, the proximity to Tylendel making it difficult to breathe, let alone speak.

Cupping his chin with one hand, Tylendel turned Vanyel's face toward his. "Oh?" he said, raising an eyebrow archly.

That expression—Vanyel remembered it so well—was too much. Vanyel raised his face to Tylendel's and kissed his lips softly, gently.

Tylendel's mouth opened under his and with an almost painful familiarity, their tongues moved against each other. The missed feeling was overwhelming; Vanyel wanted more, so much more, his hands running now over Tylendel's bare torso.

Chuckling, Tylendel broke the kiss and ran his own hands up Vanyel's shirt. "I think we should take this off," he breathed in Vanyel's ear, pulling the soft material over his head. He captured Vanyel's mouth again, tracing gentle hands down his sides, and over his chest, before stopping with an exclamation.

"What-?" Vanyel pulled away, looking at him. Tylendel was staring at his bared torso with pained eyes.

"Kernos' balls, Van!" Tylendel said, gently tracing the white lines of mage lightning, the stab wounds, the maze of whip scars from that Karsite capture years ago. Looking down, Vanyel realized he was virtually covered with records of old wounds.

"I'm not exactly the prize I was at sixteen," Vanyel said with a small, sad smile.

"No—Gods, no, that's not what I meant—" Tylendel said, taking him back into his arms. "You've just changed, so much." He fingered Vanyel's white hair, traced the fine wrinkles by his eyes. "I wish I had been there for all of it. It must have been so incredibly hard."

Vanyel shrugged. "It was duty, 'Lendel." He stood and moved across the room, turning to face the window. Tylendel bit back a second exclamation at his equally scarred back. "I was the only one with that kind of power. The only one that could help those people."

He turned to face his old lover again. "I don't know if I would have done it all if you'd been there—if I'd had something to live for—I don't know if I would have become the same hardened Herald that Stef knew. But this is me, thirty-eight years old, scarred, weathered, and much, much older."

Tylendel stood and moved across the room, taking Vanyel in his arms. "Well, I'm still older than you, even if I don't look it," he said, lightening the mood. "And I still get to tell you what to do," he murmured, moving his hands down to cup Vanyel's ass and push him closer.

Vanyel murmured something unintelligible and returned the caresses, hands running eagerly over the smooth, tanned skin. He tilted his face toward Tylendel's and they kissed even more deeply this time, bodies practically melting into each other's. When they finally broke, Tylendel shot him an amused look and pulled him toward the bed. "For such a prude, you certainly know how to kiss. And not like a sixteen-year-old."

Vanyel flushed, embarrassed by the reference to other lovers. "I'm joking, Van," 'Lendel laughed. "Come on, let's see what else you've learned." With that, he gently pushed Vanyel onto the bed and moved on top of him, hands and mouth and tongue everywhere as he gently rediscovered his lover's body.

Moaning in pleasure, Vanyel ran his hands through Tylendel's golden curls as the other man's mouth moved further down, finally reaching the telltale bulge in Vanyel's breeches. Tylendel nuzzled it gently, causing Vanyel to tighten his hold on his hair before gasping out, "Get them off, now."

Tylendel chuckled before hooking his breeches and smallclothes together and pulling them off in one smooth motion. Nibbling back up Vanyel's legs, he licked the shaft of his cock once, from top to bottom, before gently swirling the tip with his tongue. "'Lendel…" Vanyel moaned, trying not to thrust into his mouth. Tylendel saved him the trouble, taking his cock deep into his mouth and sucking, then slowly moving his mouth and tongue up and down along the shaft. When he cradled his balls gently in his left hand and began to play with them, Vanyel cried out once, then came, hot and white, in Tylendel's mouth.

"Gods, 'Lendel," he breathed after a moment, pulling the other man up for a deep kiss. "Amazing as ever."

Tylendel smiled, his hard, still-clothed cock rubbing against Vanyel's leg. "Sounded like it," he replied, a bit smugly. Vanyel chuckled, that soft, deep chuckle he only gave after coming, and Tylendel felt a shiver rush through him.

"Your turn," Vanyel said with a quirk of an eyebrow, hands reaching down to gently undo Tylendel's breeches. He pulled them off, revealing a throbbing erection.

"It's been awhile," Tylendel whispered hoarsely, propped up above Vanyel on two elbows. "But you know what I want." He eased himself back down onto Vanyel, finding his mouth again and exploring it with his tongue while he rubbed his cock against Vanyel's already half-hard one.

When the kiss finally broke, Vanyel smiled. "And you think I'm going to give it to you?"

Slowly licking a finger and rubbing it gently around Vanyel's opening, Tylendel returned the smile. "I know you are, _ashke_. You always do." He carefully pushed his first finger in as Vanyel gasped, then pushed in a second one. With the third, he was even more gentle—Vanyel was tight as ever—but Vanyel's expression soon shifted from slight pain to pleasure.

"Do it, 'Lendel," he breathed into his lover's ear.

Gently, ever so gently, Tylendel pushed in, letting Vanyel get used to him before moving. _Gods—he fills me so perfectly—_Vanyel's thoughts were lost in a haze of pleasure as he moved with Tylendel, letting his lover hook his knees up under his arms and push even deeper. All those times with Stef, and this felt exactly the same—the same perfect fit, the same smooth movement—his body fell into the remembered motion, complementing Tylendel's perfectly as Tylendel hit that spot over and over again, until everything seemed to rush together and he _screamed_. Tylendel was just a moment later, crying out, "_Vanyel,_" as he came hard inside him.

They lay there, breathing heavily for a moment, until Tylendel rolled off Vanyel and sighed. "Unbelievable."

"Mmm," Vanyel agreed, snuggling up to Tylendel's chest.

One arm came around to circle him, the hand lazily tracing the marks on his body. "It's hard to believe you're almost _forty_, Van," Tylendel said after a moment. "You realize you're Savil's age when we got together?"

Vanyel snorted. "I prefer not to think of it that way. You were never old; you don't know what it's like! One day you look in the mirror and you've got gray hair and wrinkles that seem to have appeared from nowhere." He paused. "Not to mention this," he gestured toward his body.

"I sort of like it," Tylendel said impishly, pulling Vanyel closer. "Makes you seem distinguished. Mature. Besides," he continued as Vanyel snorted again, "it's not like you've exactly aged poorly. If it weren't for the hair, you could pass for thirty." He ran his hands along the corded muscles of Vanyel's arms and chest. " And _these _were never here when you were sixteen."

Smiling despite himself, Vanyel turned to face Tylendel. "Easy for you to say! You still look seventeen. And a perfect seventeen at that."

"All the better for you, old man," Tylendel chuckled. "How often does a fossil like you get a teenage lover?"  
>Vanyel flushed and turned away. After a moment, Tylendel suddenly laughed aloud, several points coming together. "Wait a second! If Stefen is me… then he was born after I died. So he must be—all of nineteen?"<p>

"Just turned twenty," Vanyel mumbled into the pillow.

"You're telling me that the noble, the respectable Herald-Mage Vanyel Ashkevron—who, from what I've understood, was quite the public figure—was sharing his bed with a twenty-year old lad? Who, if he is anything like me, was probably _no_ prude at all?"

Vanyel had to smile at the last. "Certainly no prude." Tylendel shook with silent laughter. "He pursued me, 'Lendel! And I hadn't had sex in… Gods."

"Let me guess, a year?" Tylendel said, laughter still in his voice.

"Ha. A year?" Vanyel shook his head. "Six years."  
>"Six years?" Tylendel's voice shot up. "Six years, Vanyel?"<p>

"Quiet, you'll scare the birds I've dreamed here."

"No wonder you were so devoted to duty. You must have been a ticking time bomb when this Stefen got his hands on you." Tylendel trailed one hand down to cup Vanyel's balls. "Poor, neglected Vanyel. I'd feel badly if I didn't know you did it to yourself." He traced the line of Vanyel's cheekbone with his other hand. "After all, you've only gotten more ridiculously beautiful with age, no matter what you think. No one could resist this face."

Vanyel laughed. "Trying to bring out the old peacock?"

"I know he's still in there somewhere. So how did Stefen finally crack the ice sculpture that is Vanyel Ashkevron?" Vanyel frowned at him and Tylendel rapped his head. "Don't look at me like that, I know how you get! Remember, you were pretending to be frozen when I met you."

"Well… he was persistent. He was interesting, and brilliant," Vanyel said with a pang. "And he loved music. But I suppose I broke down when he finally just admitted his feelings. I'm an Empath, now, you know," he added with a smile. "Albeit a rather terrible one, since I can barely read my own feelings, much less know what to do with other people's." He paused. "But I could feel him hurting, and Gods, I was lonely, 'Lendel."

"And horny," Tylendel added.

Vanyel hit him with a pillow. "I was fine. Very in control."

"Mmm hmm. Some twenty-year-old irresistible little tart comes your way and you feel nothing? I bet you wanted to jump the unsuspecting boy."

Vanyel whacked him again then gave a small chuckle. "Maybe a little bit." He disentangled himself from Tylendel and stood up, stretching. When he noticed Tylendel staring at him, he chuckled. "And what are you looking at?"

"Some sort of godlike figure," Tylendel laughed back. "You look like one of those tribal war gods, with all that muscle and those scars."

"I suppose I could just imagine myself looking differently," Vanyel mused. "We are what we make ourselves here. I'm just so used to seeing this in the mirror."

"I like it," Tylendel declared. "Don't change a thing."

Vanyel smiled. "Good, because you'll be looking at it for eternity."

Coming up behind him, Tylendel put his arms around Vanyel and whispered, "And now I finally understand why they call it the Havens."


End file.
